


out of my mind

by plinys



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, F/F, Getting Back Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 12:25:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14112309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: There was no precedent for it. Nobody to turn to for advice and ask how she was supposed to go on when everything she thought that she knew about the world was now nothing more than fake memories. When she wasn’t even sure what thoughts were her own and what were ones programmed into her. Or if she could even have thoughts of her own.(An episode tag for "I, Ava")





	out of my mind

How was she supposed to process this? 

Knowing that everything about herself, every memory or thought that she’d ever had was nothing more than a fabrication. A series of memories put together, chosen specifically to make her what she was  _ manufactured  _ to be.

Manufactured.

Made.

Fabricated like the french toast Gideon made for her a few weeks ago. 

“I feel like throwing up,” Ava says suddenly. 

“Maybe we should stop drinking,” Sara says. Though even as she says this, she makes no move to set down her glass. Neither does Ava. If anything she holds onto her glass just a little tighter. 

She should have left hours ago, but something had stopped her.

The fear of going back to her apartment, to a place that was empty and alone where all Ava would have was her own thoughts for company. Her own doubts and insecurities.  

“It’s not that, it’s…”

Where was she even supposed to begin. 

Where was anyone supposed to begin in a situation like this.

There was no precedent for it. Nobody to turn to for advice and ask how she was supposed to go on when everything she thought that she knew about the world was now nothing more than fake memories. When she wasn’t even sure what thoughts were her own and what were ones programmed into her. Or if she could even have thoughts of her own.

No,  _ this _ , the feeling of dread and insecurity, that had to be her own.

After all, who rationally would program a robot to have  _ anxiety _ . 

Or not a robot, technically but still a- 

“I should resign as Director of the Time Bureau, I’m not-” Ava starts and stops herself, because she had wanted this for so long, worked so hard to rise up the chain of command, and what was even the point. What had ever been the point. “-It’s not fair for the Bureau to be led by someone that isn’t even real.”

“You’re real,” Sara insists. 

Just as she had before.

Back there in a future with a hundred other woman that wore Ava’s face, standing in the factory that made clones just like her, the place where she herself had probably been made, somewhere in a distant future that Ava didn’t even remember. 

She’s not entirely sure if remembering would make it better or worse.

“What if my programming fails and I jeopardize a mission?”

Sara looks disappointed at that. Disappointed in Ava. Maybe she finally realized that dreadful thing that Ava had slowly been forcing herself to process. 

“Don’t say that,” Sara says, voice tight. 

Ava can’t stand to look at her.

Instead she focuses down on her glass, on the amber brown liquid within it, that she can’t bring herself to drink anymore. 

“What if I catch a virus or something-”

“I’m pretty sure you’re a clone, not a robot,” Sara points out. 

Which is not entirely helpful. 

Which she seems to realize a moment later, Sara’s expression faltering, “Shit, Ava, I didn’t mean...”

“You’re right,” Ava agrees, gesturing to Sara with her glass.

A clone.

She was a clone.

Genetically modified to be the  _ perfect woman _ .

Except Ava didn’t feel perfect, she felt - “Wait, what if I’m not even a lesbian?”

Sara shoots her a look, over the top of her glass. Skepticism, and mild amusement, for the first time in hours, for the first time since she realized what all this was… A drastic shift from the serious support that Sara had been offering her up until this point. 

There’s something like a laugh in her voice, when she says, “Really? That’s the thing you’re questioning.”

“I’m questioning a lot of things,” Ava points out. 

The words coming out easier now that she’s drunk. 

Sara nods at that a little.

“I mean what if I-”

“Want to test it,” Sara says cutting her off. 

“How,” Ava asks without thinking.

“I could take off my top, and you tell me if my tits still look good?”

Sara’s teasing, but Ava can’t help the flush that rises to her cheeks. Even still, even now, she’s incredibly gone on Sara Lance.

This too, she blames on the alcohol. 

The way Sara is looking at her. It’s a way that nobody has looked at her like in a while. Not any of those women on UpSwipes, not her ex back in Las Vegas, not any other woman Ava has been with before - no  _ only  _ Sara had looked at her like this. Soft and loving, but also teasing just so.

God, she’d missed this. 

Missed this like an ache in her chest.

Drank until she could forget how tight her chest was over the mere thought of Sara.

Now at least she had something else to consume her mind. To make her turn to a bottle of whatever the strongest thing Sara could hand her was. To give her an excuse for the tears that seem so sudden and ready to fall to her cheeks at any given moment. To make her question everything that she’s ever known. 

“Ava,” Sara prompts.

And she can’t help but flinch back at the sound of her own name. A name that wasn’t even really hers, it was the name of the company that made them - that made  _ her  _ \- because she wasn’t a real person. Because nothing was really real and -

“Baby, you need to breathe.”

There’s hands on the side of her face, Sara’s hands, grounding her in place, rubbing at the tears that have started to fall from her eyes. Tears that once she’s aware of them, she can’t seem to find it in her to stop. They’re hours overdue, this panic attack is hours overdue, but there’s Sara, real and here in front of her.

Sara that she can’t touch.

Not in the way that she wants to, not in the way that she needs to, because what she needs to do is to kiss Sara, to remember how Sara made her feel  _ real _ .

Something Ava is pretty sure that she’s never going to feel again. 

It makes the tears fall harder, sobs wracking her body in a way they haven’t properly, not since she had opened a portal away from Sara’s room, broken down in her office wishing that her office didn’t have glass doors, wishing that she had been able to stop the tears that had overtaken her, the pain that had seemed neverending. 

She vaguely registers Sara wrapping her arms around her, pulling her in. Ava lets herself be moved, lets herself cry into Sara’s shirt even though she knows that she should stop, that she should move away and find an excuse to leave and to push all this behind because Sara doesn’t belong to her anymore, because Sara told her that she couldn’t do  _ this  _ anymore and Ava had wanted to respect her boundaries.

Even if everything that she had done after walking off the Waverider had left her with a sick feeling in her stomach because it wasn’t Sara.

Because nobody else was Sara.

But Sara had said that she couldn’t do this, had said that back before when she thought Ava was a real and normal person, and if Sara hadn’t wanted her when she was normal, there was no way that she would want her now. 

No way anybody ever could. 

“I’m sorry,” Ava says, mumbling into, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be here, we shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t-”

“Hey,” Sara pulls back. A hand on her cheek again, a hand that Ava can’t help but lean into, desperate for even this little bit of contact, “Ava, there’s nowhere else I’d rather you be. If you weren’t here with me, I’d just be worrying about you and…” Sara trails off, but she doesn’t pull her hand away.

There’s something there, a look in Sara’s eyes, a look that Ava understands somewhere deep inside of her. 

At least, she hopes that she’s reading this right. 

“It’s not your job to worry about me anymore,” Ava says, even though she wants to be worried about. Desperately. She needs to be. It’s one of of the few things that had even made her feel close to real ever since she figured out that she wasn’t unique. 

“Maybe I want it to be,” Sara says. 

Slow, and soft.

A start.

A second chance.

Or something that feels like it might just be. 

“Even after…” Ava can’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

Not sure how she’s supposed to be able to. 

Thankfully, Sara doesn’t make her.

Instead she does something that Ava hadn’t expected to ever be lucky enough to experience again. 

A kiss. 

Simple and soft, tasting like the salt from Ava’s tears, and the press of Sara just there against her. There’s confidence in her kiss. As if Sara was trying to push everything that she was feeling, every bit of self confidence that she had and transfer it directly into Ava’s soul. Ava thinks for a second that she feels it. The softest fluttering over hope in her heart. 

At least the tears that she was shedding now were happy tears.

Not that she was able to stop these either.

Not that she wanted to.

They pull apart after a moment. Barely moving an inch away from each other, still holding tight as if the other person might slip away. A feeling that Ava now knew all too well, that she never wants to have to feel again. 

“None of that matters, because you, this  _ you _ ,” Sara says, “Is the only Ava Sharpe that I’ll ever care about, the only one that I could ever love, and I want you, as long as you’re still willing to have me?”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

 


End file.
